A Quiver of Arrows
by Kijikun1
Summary: Games are a compromise between intimacy and keeping intimacy away. - Eric Berne Andrea finds a bag of arrows while scavenging and asking Daryl to trade her things in exchange for arrows. What starts as a game soon becomes far more than that. Andrea/Daryl, Season 2 AU
1. The First Arrow

Title: The First Arrow  
Rating: PG  
Pairing: Daryl/Andrea  
Warnings/Notes: Season 2 AU  
Summary: Andrea's not sure why she hides the arrows.

Andrea's shirt is sticking to her back with sweat, and she'd given anything for a cold beer and some A/C. The sun seems even harsher out here on the highway with the abandoned cars dotting the landscape. They stopped for a flat tire, and while the men are keeping watch Andrea decides to make herself useful and search some of the nearby cars for supplies.

There isn't much. She finds some bottles of sunblock and aloe in one car, but nothing much else. She almost gave up before she checked the battered SUV. It's crashed into the dividing wall between the two sides of the highway and she tries not to think about what happened to the occupants, especially since there's a car seat in the back.

That's when she finds a jackpot. Well, for her at least: Fishing gear.

Well-used but in good shape. She tries to keep Amy out of her thoughts as she gathers it up.

She wants to be useful — she needs to be useful — and she's good at fishing. If they find a pond or lake she'll be able to help supplement their food. Maybe then she'll stop feeling like Daryl looks at her like she's dead weight.

She's not someone's wife or mother. She's not even someone's sister anymore.

Andrea sometimes fears that if not for Dale she would have been left behind the first chance the group got.

She's moving aside the metal tackle box when she comes across the canvas bag. She unzips it out of curiosity, and laying inside with their brightly colored feathers are arrows meant for a crossbow. They look almost brand new.

Andrea knows she should bring them straight to Daryl. He's starting to run low and won't he be proud of her scavenging skills?

Something though makes her re-zip the bag and not say a word about it. She tells Dale it's just more fishing stuff, and he smiles as if glad she'd found something to be eager about. She hides away the arrows feeling guilty and childish, but she still does it.

She manages to even put them out of her mind for a while.

Then Sophia goes missing. Then Daryl spends all his energy trying to find that poor lost little girl.

* * *

Andrea finds Daryl sitting by the fire looking more exhausted and frankly heartsick than she thought a man could actually be. A stranger might think he was Sophia's father.

"You people walk like a herd of elephants," Daryl drawls not turning around. "You need something, Andrea?"

She sits down not far from him and holds out one of the arrows. "An arrow for an answer."

He squints at her and a scowl falls across his face. "Where'd you get that?" he demands.

Andrea raises her chin. "You want it or not?"

Daryl makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and snort. "Merle warned me about you lawyers," he mutters, but she somehow doesn't feel insulted. "Ask your question."

She had a dozen other questions she meant to ask. Something to maybe just get him talking and bridge the gap between them. Though she's not sure why she wants that gap to be bridged.

What comes out of her mouth is almost a plea. "Do you really think you'll find her?"

Daryl stares at her hard, like he's unpacking her words and trying to find the insult. The silence stretches out until she's tempted to just give him the arrow and retreat.

"Yes," he says softly as she starts to stand.

She stops and looks down at him.

He's staring into the fire. "I'll find her." He says it with such conviction that she believes.

Daryl's a great many things in her eyes, but he's never been a liar.

Andrea's not sure what to say so she just nods and holds out the arrow. Their fingers brush and she feels an unexpected rush of warmth.

_God_, she thinks, _I need to get laid if I'm having warm feelings about Daryl Dixon_. Anyways he probably had girls with better looks and bigger breasts than her.

"Waste of an arrow," he comments as she moves away from the fire towards her own tent. "Would have answered you that one for free."

Andrea looks back over her shoulder at him. His back is too her. "I'll come up with something better to ask in trade next time, then."

"You'd better or I'll start thinkin' your not as smart as I thought you were," he says still not turning around.

Andrea goes to her tent thinking maybe she got fair bit for her arrow after all.


	2. The Second and Third Arrows

A/N: While this is being posted as a series on AO3 and LJ, I figured it be easier for everyone here if new parts of the series as new chapters.

* * *

Daryl's reading the book Andrea gave him, trying not to feel useless and pathetic from enforced rest, when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. He glances up to see Andrea's familiar form coming towards his tent.

Daryl starts to wonder just how many arrows Andrea's got stashed away when she approaches him with a third. He can't see the arrow yet, but the way she's making her way over to him with one hand tucked behind her back he figures she's got another arrow. Either that or it's her gun and she's fixing to finish what she started.

Yeah, that's a little unfair, but so is he.

She'd dangled the second arrow in front of him like he was some sort of trained animal before he'd headed into the wood on that damn horse. She'd wanted to know how old he was first time he hunted and killed something. Damned if he knew why. He'd told her, it was easy enough answer after all. He even told her what he'd killed for free. He'd been seven and it'd been a rabbit.

"I had a pet bunny when I was little," she told him when she handed over the arrow.

He'd almost caught her wrist and told her the full of it. That he hadn't been allowed to come home unless he'd brought food. How it had the softest fur and he'd cried without really knowing why.

He didn't tell her any of that though. He'd let her go and he'd cursed himself for wanting to tell her shit to begin with. Like some stuck up city girl lawyer would understand.

Watching her walk towards him with purpose in her step, the sun just behind her making her hair look almost white, he thinks maybe he should have told her. Maybe she would have sat beside him by the fire and maybe…

He snorts at himself. Yeah, maybe nothing. She's a pretty damn thing, yeah, but he don't need to be thinking about any girl that way right now. Certainly not Miss Lawyer. Besides she had Shane to keep her warm, now didn't she?

Andrea comes to a stop in front of his open tent door. "Can I come in?"

He gives her a half-shrug where he lays. "If I say no will you leave me in peace?" he asks squinting at her.

She scowls but before she opens her mouth he chuckles.

"I know you got 'nother arrow behind your back," he tells her. "Get in here and ask your damn question."

Andrea climbs into the tent and sits herself down by his hip, laying the arrow across her lap. "How'd you know I had an arrow?"

He shrugs again. "Way you held yourself and you had that look in your eye," he tells her.  
She smells like laundry soap and he wonders if she mostly came out here to escape Lori.

"What look in my eye?" she asks, sounding curious. She shifts as if making herself for comfortable and her legs brush against his hip.

The brief contact through his clothing makes him feel trapped in the realization that he's got a pretty girl alone in what amounts to his room for the first time in his life.

_Bet you don't even know what to do with her_, Merle taunts from the back of his mind.

Daryl swallows harder than he needs to. "Like you're up to something." He eyes her. "You up to something, girl?"

Andrea laughs and shakes her head. "No I just…" She looks at the arrow in her lap and then at the bandage on his head. "Arrow for an answer, right?"

He nods despite the fact he's not sure if he wants to be playing this game with her. She used to play games for a living, didn't she? And he's not sure he wants the complications of playing her games.

Her lips thin into a little frown. "What will it take to make things right between us?"

Daryl frowns right back at her. "I told you we were good, girl. You did nothing wrong but have shit aim," he tells her sharply. Have the others been piling guilt onto her? He's pretty sure none of them, except maybe Glenn - though fuck knows why- , really gives a shit about him. But he knows he's their big source of food and that's enough to get someone like Lori pissy at Andrea.

"If I'd seen what you did? Would have taken the shot too."

Only he would have hit his mark.

Suddenly, all he can think of is him taking that shot and realizing a heart beat too late that it was Andrea. He can see her laying like a broken doll in the field her straw colored hair matted with blood. The vision is so vivid and it feels like a kick to the chest.

_Aww, does little Daryl have a crush?_ Merle's voice is all mocking.

Andrea looks down at the arrow in her lap seemingly unaware of his inner conflict. "There has to be something," she says softly, then touches his arm.

He freezes up, staring at her hand on his skin. He wants to bolt, to shake her off, but he feels nailed to the ground.

_C'mon, little brother, this is your big chance. Might be the only way she'll let you fuck her. Bet her cunt is tight. Bet she's never had a real man, _Merle leers.

"Daryl?" Andrea asks looking up at his face, their eyes meeting.

"You can blow me," he says spurned on by panic and his brother's voice in the back of his head.

Andrea rears back, eyes wide. "What?"

Daryl knows he should laugh. Should laugh like it's a joke. Instead he gestures towards his crotch. "You heard me, girl," he tells her cruelly.

She gets up so fast he gets whiplash just looking at her. The arrow falls to the floor of the tent.

"How dare you!" she hisses and storms to the entrance of the tent. Andrea looks back at him, and to his surprise her eyes look wet and she looks more hurt than angry. "I'm not a whore."

There's something about the way her voice splinters that makes him feel like shit. He wants to get up, to catch her, and tell her he's sorry. He doesn't though.

Andrea blinks hard. "I'm not a whore," she repeats then leaves the tent.

"I know," he says softly to her retreating back. "Fuck!"

He throws the book across the tent and covers his eyes with his arm. "You're a fucking moron, Dixon," he tells himself.

In his head he can hear Merle laugh at him.


	3. The Fourth Arrow

Sophia is gone. Dead.

Been gone and dead.

Daryl paces in front of his tent, chewing on his nails. He knows he's acting out and he can hear Merle mocking him, can hear his father laughing in his drunken way saying Daryl's acting more like an animal that a man. He knows if he sits down, if he slows down, he'll do something he'll regret.

'Cause he can't stop thinking about Sophia coming out of the brain. How long had she been in there? Was she still…alive…when she was put in there? Had she cried?

He can't even look at Carol now, knowing how badly he failed. How he fucked up when it matter most. Knowing that while he was out in the wood on that damn horse Sophia could already of been…

"Daryl?"

He wheels around, furious someone's dared intrude on his solitude. "What?" he half-growls, half-yells.

Andrea is standing mere inches away and while she flinches, she holds her ground. "I thought…" she starts.

Daryl turns away sharply. He doesn't want to look at her and after what he said to her last time she approached him alone he's surprised she wants to be near him.

But more than anything he doesn't want to hear her tell him how he failed them. He can't imagine her coming to his tent for any other reason. "Don't want to hear it," he snaps at her. "Now, get. I'm sure you've better things to do with your time, girl."

Andrea surprises him — she does that a lot in recent days — by stepping back into his line of sight. She pulls something out of the bag across her shoulders and hands it to him.

He takes it almost automatically and finds himself holding a somewhat smashed but still intact snickers bar. "What's this for?" he asks suspiciously.

"You did more for that little girl than anyone," Andrea says quietly. "You risked more than anyone. The way it turned out…that doesn't lessen what you did, Daryl."

Daryl keeps his eyes fixed on the candy bar in his hand. "So you give me candy? You should be givin' this to Carol."

"I want to give it to you. I was saving it for…" her voice trails off for a moment. "I want you to have it."

_Amy,_ he thinks,_ she was saving this for Amy._

_Aww, ain't that sweet, she givin' you candy like you're a girl, _Merle taunts.

Daryl ignores his brother's voice. " 'ppreciate it."

"Got something else," Andrea says after a long moment where he half expects her to head back to the farm house.

He glances up to see her pulling an arrow from her bag. He frowns slightly. After last time, why would she even…

"You didn't like my last answer too good," he reminds her._ I don't think you're a whore_, he wants to tell her, but he won't, he never will.

Andrea's lips tug up at the corner. "I kinda deserved it," she tells him in a way that makes him itch to punch Shane. "Anyways, I don't want an answer. I want you to let me do something."

"What?" he asks, eying her suspiciously.

"Let me hug you," she says. She tilts her head to one side then the other like a squirrel judging if it can make a jump.

He scowls at her. "Why, the hell you wanna do that?"

Andrea puts a hand on her hip. "You want the arrow or not?"

He's going to tell her no. He's going to tell her he's done with this stupid game and either she hand over all the arrows or he'll ransack her tent.

"Alright, get it over with," he grumbles, steeling himself against the contact to come.

Andrea doesn't just fling her arms around him. She careful slides them around him, like he's a frightened animal she doesn't want to spook. He's not sure he likes that comparison even in his own head, but he lets her wrap her arms around around him. He let's her press her face against his neck.

He stands unmoving, until his fingers start to twitch. Awkwardly, he puts a hand on her lower back. She squeezes him gently.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

Daryl wants to demand, _what the hell for_, when his throat closes up and he finds himself closer to tears then he has in…in…

He fights them back, his hand clenching in her shirt in effort.

He doesn't cry. He hasn't in so long he's not sure he'd properly remember how.

But Daryl's neck is wet.

Andrea's crying.

Daryl doesn't know what to do with that. So he stands there with her, while something untwists in his chest, leaving him more able to breath, to think. His hand loosens on her shirt and relaxes on her back.

When Andrea pulls away, steps back from him, her eyes are dry, but slightly red. "See you at dinner?" she asks softly, pressing the arrow into his free hand.

He nods mutely.

Andrea smiles, just a little, and nods back.

Daryl watches her walk back towards the house, her hips swinging just a little. He remembers how thin she felt.

Tomorrow, he decides as he stores the arrow and candy bar away, he'll get up before the sun and see if he can't track down something bigger than a squirrel.


	4. The Fifth Arrow

Chapter Title: The Fifth Arrow

Beta: Fleete

* * *

Andrea isn't sure what wakes her. The camp is quiet with Rick on watch. She sees Daryl from the opening of her tent. He's sitting on a log by the dying fire. Slipping on her shoes and slinging her bag across her shoulders, she walks across and sits down by his feet. He nods at her and goes back to whatever he's doing with his hands. It looks like he's weaving leather cord together with—

Is that rope or grass?

In any case, it's late, and she's kind of worried he's still awake. Doesn't he have the next watch after Rick? Hasn't Daryl been up since dawn?

She'd knows because he'd dragged her into the woods to 'teach her to hunt'. She's not sure if he took her because he thought she'd be able to catch on, because he wanted her company, or because he knew Andrea might brain Lori if she had to do any more laundry. It's a wonder, though, that they caught anything. But Daryl bagged a rabbit, and they'd even found some type of berry Daryl called "dewberries".

Andrea still remembers the rush of warmth she got when Daryl smiled at her and called her his good luck charm.

"Do you want me to take watch for you?" she asks, softly. She's gotten a few hours sleep and that's more than it looks like he's gotten.

Daryl shakes his head. "Naw, I got it."

Andrea nods. She could argue it with him, but it would just be for the sake of arguing. Man's stubborner than all her Law Professors put together. She leans a little closer, mostly to see what exactly he's doing.

"What are you making?" she asks. Her arm brushes against his leg as she shifts.

Daryl's hands still, but she doesn't lean away. "Nothing 'portant," he says and shoves the leather and rope into his pocket.

She fights to keep a frown off her face. She figured it was just something for hunting or his crossbow, but if he's hiding it…

Andrea turns her face back towards the fire. "Something for Carol?" she asks, wondering why she feels a stab of jealousy at that thought.

Daryl makes a very soft sound, one she's not sure how to place. "Know how to do more than rod fishin'?"

"I've done some net fishing, but that was years ago," she tells him. She lets the change of subject go without comment. She's not sure she wants to know about him and Carol. Not the way just thinking about it makes her insides twist.

"Ever do any spear fishing?" he asks. He stretches out one leg, his boot tapping against her shoe. "We need to get you better shoes, girl."

Andrea rolls her eyes at the shoe comment. It's not like she packed for zombies or learning to hunt in the Georgia woods. "No, but I'm sure I could learn. Why?"

He taps his boot against her shoe again. "Surprised the soles of those things haven't just ripped right off," he says as if he's not even talking to her. Then he shakes his head and looks down at her. "Saw some fish in the river."

She shakes her head. "If I'm going to fish, I might as well ask Maggie if I can fish off the dock. I've got some fishing gear."

Daryl's lips curve up into the second real smile she's seen from him that day. "Was wondering what you hauled out of that old SUV on the highway." His smile fades as quick as it came. "You sure you're up to it, Andrea?"

Andrea's furious for a split second until she really looks at him. His eyes have that same look from when he asked if she still felt like dying. She gets it. "I have to face it at some point or another."

"But it don't have to be now," Daryl tells her. "You don't got to push yourself."

She looks at his boot resting against her sneaker. He's right, she does need better shoes. Maybe she'll be able to scavenge some hiking boots or something soon. She looks at where there's a hole in the knee of his pants—and she wouldn't know how to fix it without an iron-on patch kit.

She swallows hard.

"I think I do need to push," she finally says. "I won't become a liability to the group."

Daryl's chuckle is rough but there's warmth to it. "That, angel face, isn't something you're in danger of becoming."

She's so blindsided by the compliment, that it takes what he calls her a second to settle in.  
"Angel face?" She peers up at him.

Daryl's face and ears go red, and he looks sharply away from her. He shrugs his shoulders.

Andrea knows she should let it go. She should go to bed. She should leave things be before she ruins something.

Fuck, but she's terrible at taking her own advice.

She pulls the arrow she'd stashed in her bag before dinner. Tapping his leg with it, she looks up at him through her eyelashes.

"Trade you for another arrow?" she asks softly.

Daryl looks at the arrow, his ears still slightly red, then at her before darting back to the arrow. "What you want this time?"

"Kiss me," she says. This could ruin everything but she keeps going, throwing herself into another bad decision. _Not as bad as the one with Shane,_ she thinks. "One kiss, for one arrow."

He doesn't say anything. He barely moves. Hell, he doesn't even look at her.

She's about to try to laugh it off. To say something like, _Ha, ha, that's for the blow job crack, Dixon,_ but she doesn't get a chance.

Daryl's eyes suddenly meet hers, and they're wild, something almost out of control in those blue depths. His fingers sink into her hair, twisting around her loose pony tail, and almost force her head back. Daryl's mouth crashes against hers.

It's rough and wet, and his teeth scrape against her lips. Her little half gasp lets him push his tongue into her mouth. There's nothing soft or sweet or tender about it, and, _God_, but it's hot.

And it's over the moment she slides her tongue against his and her hand settles on his thigh. He makes a half-broken moan and pulls back like he's been burned.

"Need to go relieve Rick from watch," he says, his voice rougher than normally. He takes the arrow from her fingers. He won't look at her.

Daryl doesn't wait for her answer before he bolts.

Andrea touches her fingers to her lips. They feels slightly bruised and she wonders if anyone will be able to tell in the morning.

She wonders if Daryl will look at her in the morning.


	5. The Sixth Arrow

Chapter Title: The Sixth Arrow

Beta: Fleete

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderfully feedback! You guys are awesome.

* * *

Andrea is shaking.

Daryl thinks he sees it only because he's looking for it. He sees it in her hands as she clutches Dale's hand tightly. Carol is trying to pry Andrea away with little success.

Daryl doesn't like the shocked, broken look in Andrea's eyes, and he's not sure Carol's the right person to handle her. He glances at Rick.

The lawman seems to know what Daryl's thinking, even though Daryl himself doesn't. He claps Daryl on the shoulder and takes his gun back. "We'll take care of Dale, you go take care of her," Rick says softly. "And thank you."

Daryl nods, torn between embarrassment, confusion, and uneasiness. He moves towards Andrea, and he's aware of Shane's glare. Though if Shane thinks Daryl's letting him alone with Andrea like this, the man's got another thing coming.

"I got her," he tells Carol.

Carol bites her bottom lip but nods. She starts to speak, then hesitates for a moment. "Be careful with her," she says so softly Daryl barely hears her.

He doesn't want to think about what she means. He bends down and covers Andrea's wrists with his hands.

Andrea looks up at him, and it's the Andrea from the night in the woods. The pale, scared slip of a woman trying to hold the pieces of herself together and failing. Daryl wants the playful Andrea. The Andrea that snips and smiles at him. He wants the Andrea he kissed.

"C'mon," he tells her as gently as he's able. It still comes out rough.

She lets go of Dale's lifeless hand, though, and lets him pull her to her feet. Daryl doesn't let go of her wrist as he leads her into the darkened camp and to her tent. She's quiet, and it unnerves him.

He has this strange fear that if he leaves her outside of her tent, she'll just stand there. His own hands shake. Is this the thing that breaks her?

Something in Daryl's chest twists at the thought.

When he gets her into the tent, she sits down on her sleeping bag like her strings have been cut. He swallows hard and kneels down to take off her boots. There's blood on her shirt and his fingers tremble as he reaches out and grips the hem. Andrea doesn't protest, so he slides the shirt up, being careful not to touch her skin.

She raises her arms to help him, then lets them drop when the shirt is off. Daryl balls the shirt up and tosses it into the corner. Her bra is a green as pale as her eyes.

He could touch her he realizes. He could touch her and she wouldn't object. Wouldn't say no.

_C'mon, son, take what you want for once. You a man or what?_ Merle taunts in his head.

Daryl looks away from her pale skin and finds a clean shirt in a neat stack of clothing along the tent wall. He presses the shirt into her hands, and she slides it on, then reaches behind herself to take off her bra.

He looks away again. "I'll let you get some rest," he says, but he doesn't move. He can feel her eyes on him.

"I'm sorry," Andrea whispers.

Daryl's eyes snap back to her. "What?"

"I'm sorry you had to...," her voice trails off, and she wets her lips. "It should have been my job. I should have been there for Dale."

He shakes his head. "Don't you eat yourself up over that," he tells her firmly. "You held his hand. You were there for him."

Andrea swipes angrily at her eyes. "It shouldn't have fallen on you."

Words bottle up in Daryl's throat. Merle's laughing at him, and Daryl's not sure he trusts himself. Instead he puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out the bracelet. He puts it around Andrea's wrist and starts tying the last bits of leather together so it's a perfect fit.

_Gonna ask to go steady? Ain't that sweet,_ Merle mocks. _You think some city breed bitch is gonna want something of yours, boy?_

Andrea's quiet and still until he's done tying it on. Then she runs her fingers over it. "It's beautiful." She smiles at him even though her face is still wet with tears.

Daryl shrugs and ducks his head. Her smiles makes him want things. Things he doesn't deserve. "You should rest," he tells her as he moves towards the tent door. "I'll get you in the morning."

"Wait," Andrea says.

He stops and looks back at her.

Andrea pulls an arrow from a bag and holds it out to him. "Stay," she asks, holding his gaze. "Just stay, please, I don't want to be alone."

He almost runs. He wants to run, but he wants to stay just as much. There wouldn't be any harm, though, would there? To just lay beside her and guard her sleep?

Daryl takes the arrow from her fingers. He wipes just under her eyes with his thumbs.

He kisses her forehead.

The next morning Rick doesn't say a word about a fully clothed Andrea sleeping curled up at fully clothed Daryl's side. Rick just tells him they're going to bury Dale.

Merle isn't as silent in Daryl's head.


End file.
